


Broken Things

by LuthienLuinwe



Series: Broken Things [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Court of Owls, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Hurt / Comfort, M/M, Protective Slade Wilson, sladerobinweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: He could have killed the boy. He could have pierced a sword through his heart and watched as he fell limp and lifeless. But that boy he was fighting was not the boy he had once known. It was something perverted, grotesque.There would be no honor in killing a broken thing.





	Broken Things

He watched the boy sleep, a rare occurrence. If he listened closely, he could hear the boy breathe. Deep breaths. In. Out. Slow. Even. Peaceful. So different from the first night. He’d been so unsure, so scared. He shouldn’t have been there, he had said. Nonsense, Slade had replied.

The boy was curled on his side, face buried in Slade’s chest. Slade sighed and shut his eyes once more. He wondered what the boy dreamed of, what he saw, what horrors he remembered.

* * *

It had been a cold night when they first met. He’d been contracted for a kill, an easy job, taking out some politician’s son before a major bill could go through. Not that he particularly cared about politics. As long as the check was written, that was all that mattered.

He had been stalking his prey for weeks, learning his every move. It had been a clean shot, easy. He could have done it in his sleep.

And then that… That thing had crashed down on him and held a blade to his throat. Slade hadn’t even seen it coming, not until it was almost too late. “Slade Wilson,” the voice, cold and lifeless had said. “The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die.”

It was almost beautiful in a way, seeing his little Robin all grown up. But bile rose in his throat. Yellow eyes had taken over blue. Deathly pale skin had replaced a tan. What had happened to the Boy Wonder?

The boy fought with grace and precision, and Slade knew he needed to be cautious. Dick had never done anything half-hearted. Why would killing be any different? “Had a falling out with the Bat, did we?”

But no answer had come. 

He could have killed the boy. He could have pierced a sword through his heart and watched as he fell limp and lifeless. But that boy he was fighting was not the boy he had once known. It was something perverted, grotesque.

There would be no honor in killing a broken thing.

* * *

He listened as the boy’s breathing became rapid, panicked. “Wake up,” Slade shook him by the shoulder. A flash of yellow greeted him, and for a moment Slade was forced to remember what he was dealing with. The thing in his bed was not a human. The thing was not his Robin. 

He saw a flash of instinct in the boy’s eyes, and he was able to grab him by the wrists before the boy could grab him by the throat. “It’s me,” he spoke, keeping his voice cool and even. Dealing with the monster that had killed his Robin was not unlike handling a child, as he had learned. 

The boy’s breathing slowed once more, and the flash of murderous rage had drained from his eyes. “Bad dream?” Slade asked. After a moment, the boy nodded. It had been surreal at first. Dick had always been the most talkative of Batman’s little birds. But after everything he had gone through, it seemed he could only say one phrase. “The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die.”

* * *

“Slade Wilson,” he heard the voice and recognized it immediately. “The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die.”

He turned and faced the man in the black and yellow suit, eyes that had once been full of light and life dull and dead. “You really need to learn a new phrase,” he rolled his eyes, not caring that Dick would be unable to see him through the mask. 

They had struggled. They had fallen through glass. Slade had hurt the thing more than he had intended to.

He should have left it to die. It would have, left there on its own. He should have put it out of its misery. A mercy kill.

But that thing had still been his Robin once.

And so he had taken it home and watched in horror as it healed itself and watched as it greeted his gaze with confusion and just a hint of realization. “What happened?” he demanded, but had only gotten a blank stare in reply.

* * *

The boy who had once been his Robin clung to him, and Slade ran his fingers through his hair. He was no stranger to nightmares. One did not spend their life killing for money without a few nasty experiences along the way. But something that had killed his Robin and replaced it with that thing had to have been something unspeakably horrific.

He rocked the boy back and forth, whispering the only things he could think of to calm him. Lies that everything was all right and that everything would be fine. He had researched the mysterious Court of Owls after the first appearance of the monster that had once been Dick. They would not let their little assassin stay away for long.

The boy whimpered, and Slade flinched. It had been the first sound he had heard come from the boy’s throat in days. Even during the nightmares, his screams had been silent, with the occasional strangled sound.

“I promise you,” he said softly. “I will destroy every last one of those who did this to you.”

* * *

The third night was when the boy had finally attempted to escape. Through the window, a predictable move. Slade had upped the security systems of his safe house. The minute the window had been unlocked, he’d been notified. “Going somewhere, are we?” he asked from the doorway.

And the thing had turned to face him. And what Slade saw in those eyes was not hatred or the blank stare he had grown accustomed to. Those eyes held nothing but raw, unadulterated fear. “Dick,” he spoke and stepped forward, frowning when the boy backed into the wall and held his hands up to protect his face.

He could see the tense muscles, the set jaw. “Sit down,” he demanded, and watched as the boy who had once been so full of fight and fire did as he was told without a single hesitation He wondered what the boy was thinking, what had possessed his mind. Maybe, as the saying had once gone, ignorance really was bliss.

“I won’t hurt you,” he spoke, but the boy did not drop his guard. And when he had sat next to the boy on the bed and wrapped an arm around him, a fatherly gesture really, not like the embraces they had once shared, the thing did not even move.

* * *

“Go back to sleep,” Slade encouraged and kissed the boy on his forehead. The boy shook his head and grabbed a fistful of Slade’s shirt, playing with it carefully, cautiously. Before, his Robin would have never hesitated to touch him. “Are you scared of them?”

A silent moment hung between them, a silence full of sorrow and hate and mistrust and brokenness and fear. And the boy nodded, and Slade could see the fear in those eyes increase tenfold, as if he had gone against something sacred by admitting it.

“I won’t let them near you,” he promised and felt the boy relax, if only a little.

And he made a vow to himself.

He would find this Court of Owls that had killed his Robin and replaced it with that _thing_.

And he would put them to death himself.


End file.
